Awakening
by arsenous elation
Summary: He continued; instilling the painful stabs at her soul. Bit by bit it ruined her. Little by little it awakened her.And so the villain, the hero is awakened from her own world of blood and violence. She, who was and has forgotten. -ItachiOC-


**Author's Note: **This was originally published in Stellar Garden's account. But it was agreed upon that I take this one shot under my care. Formerly titled: "Stellar Garden: Forgotten"

* * *

**Awakening**

-o-

An Itachi Uchiha Story

_-Naruto-_

-o-

_Original Plot by: Arsenous Elation_

_Naruto is owned by: Masashi Kishimoto_

_

* * *

  
_

_Tears._ How many buckets have she cried?

_Pain._ How much have she endured?

_Laughter._ How long have she savored?

_Happiness._ How long did it last?

_Love._ How much, how many, how long is it all worth?

* * *

She tried to repress it, tried to hide it. But it just seemed to bubble up from her diaphragm—her laugh. The entire scene in front of her looked silly, almost comical.

All the blood, the violence, and death…all playing their roles in a comedic play. She was the director, the perpetrator of the bloodshed; the puppeteer of weak people. She was the villain, the hero—the one who slays everyone in the beginning, but saves them in the end. Saving everyone from their misery.

_Those who are dead are not dead_

"Please! Have mercy on us!"

"Let us live! Let—"

"We beg of you!"

"Please! Spare our children at least!"

She smiled, doom imminent in her voice as she spoke, "And what will become of you? Who will take care of your offspring?" The question was direct and almost mocking, if not for the ominous piercing tone overriding her emotions. Standing before cowering shinobi and individuals…hearing their useless pleas…the crying of the innocent children…

It only fueled the woman more.

But as always, there will stand a courageous one among the cowards; the one who will try to bargain, to fight, and to protect the people. They were the ones whom she loved to kill last—how their attempts will be futile in the end.

The doomed hero of every play stepped out from the gathered crowd. A young shinobi of blue eyes and raven hair—a handsome face that will soon face the ground, bathing in his own blood. "Who are you? Why do you do this? We have done nothing wrong to you!"

He looked so handsome, so familiar. It was as if she was looking at a distant memory that she never had. The blue eyes struck at the cold heart in her chest; the black hair seemed to stir something in her infallible soul of stone. The combination hit her in two different spots, as if the blue and black belonged to different people in her past. The man somehow made her rethink, to hesitate whether to kill him first or last—or if she should kill him at all. A genjutsu of her insanity. Yes, that must be it—because she has no past to remember from. No reason to hesitate.

There's only the present and the future…of bloodshed.

"People who have done nothing wrong," the femme fatale spoke, drawing out her long katana, looking at the brave shinobi with malevolent eyes, "Do not exist…not anymore. Not in this world."

_They're just living in my head_

The moon shone upon the wreckage, its light mourning for the death of another clan in the woman's hands. Breezes danced by, as if drying the tears and blood of the dead. In the middle of the once majestic compound she stood, savoring her drug of euphoria. There were still some lives to take, some bodies to rip apart.

Her white hair swayed in the wind, just as she drove her katana through the blue-eyed hero—a smile on her lips.

Now that the killing is done, the memories, the pleas echoed once again—sounding so empty to her ears, almost like empty vessels falling to the ground and making an irritable sound. It didn't incur any form of pity on her, just mere excitement and impatience for the sight of violence in flesh.

There are no motives behind her atrocities; no revenge, no fulfillment…at least none that she can think of yet. Call it a habit, an obsession—she prefers none.

All was perfect in her life until_ he_ appeared.

_And since I fell for that spell_

The moment she saw him, in his black cloak and his red eyes, she knew that he was tainted. Tainted with the blood of his kin—the blood the fallen Uchiha. The stories alone are proof of it. He was efficient, skilled, and a genius—like her, who had seen death all too many times, who had brought it upon countless people. He had seen her kill a kin, watched her initiate a bloodbath when they had met; never uttering a word. Not even moving from his position as she initiated her spree.

Like the blue-eyed hero, something about this Uchiha had struck her again.

But, there was something in his eyes that told her to stop, to think and reconsider her carnage. The shinobi's gaze was intense and strong, just like any other Uchiha she had seen. Proud, arrogant, and war-loving.

But somehow, he was different.

_I am living there as well_

He was the only who approached her with no hesitance, without fear. He was always where she was at, a phantom to haunt her in every action she has. He was a second shadow, tailing the woman in her wake.

The afternoon sun always made her sleepy and tranquil—a much disliked trait she had to fight down before dusk comes and her habit begins. The daylight seemed to keep her behaved and disciplined, keeping her kept and composed on the outside. It was summer, and the heat just added to her lazy stupor. She lay on the green grass, under the patched shade of the lush trees; her yakuta impeccably clean and smooth before the blood spill tonight. Even the sheathed katana beside her was clean.

It was at that moment that the Uchiha came.

His unseen presence made her stiffen in alarm and alertness. She knew it was him, with that tainted yet clean presence.

"Why are you here, Uchiha?" she asked, her voice stiff with the scent of his blood choking her throat. She closed her eyes involuntarily—as if she doesn't want to see him. If she sees him, there might another senseless tug in her unfeeling heart. Blurs of images rushed in her mind, faded scenes of the nonexistent past.

The answer she got was only silence.

In a moment of rustling of leaves and the whisper of the wind, the shinobi was suddenly beside her, standing as he looked directly ahead.

The woman's muscles tensed, her jaws clenched to prevent herself from looking or grabbing her katana and start a fight.

"Relax. I don't intend to fight." His voice seemed to clear the images in her mind, putting some sense and making them comprehensible.

She smirked, still seeing the obscure visions, slowly turning acrid, playing in her mind, "Then _why are you_ here?" she asked again.

There was silence before—

"To bring you back."

_Time is so short_

The woman opened her eyes and found him sitting calmly beside her, his gaze still directed ahead. The raven locks around his face swayed in the gentle breeze, his features bore no emotion, but his onyx eyes held a kind of fire that she has never seen before. Her chest suddenly fluttered from its still perch.

"Don't be ridiculous. You do not know me." She snarled, tearing her stare from him, turning to the clear, blue sky above them. Still tense and alert, she watched the Uchiha's form in her peripheral vision. He might be waiting for her to let her guard down—for no reason she could think of.

"Do I?" he asked, glancing swiftly at her lying form, "It seems that you have changed…and forgotten." His voice was sharp, but there was another tone in it. Something that the woman dislikes.

Pity.

"Forgotten those who and which do not matter."

"No, you have forgotten everything that you live for. Everything that makes you yourself."

She glowered at the Uchiha, angered, "You don't know me, and I don't know you. Who are you to speculate things about me? You don't know me _at all_." she hissed, unmoving from her lying position. Her hand grasped the katana, thinking why she didn't kill him the first second he appeared.

But no matter, she will kill this Uchiha now.

His expression was still bland when he spoke, "Really now? What happened to you, Yukiko?"

She froze, all thoughts of attacking him leaving her mind. The name he called her…_Yukiko?_

_And I'm sure_

She tightened her grip on the katana, trying to repress the unpleasant feeling of dread growing inside her. He just called her a name, a name that didn't belong to her. The woman wasn't named Yukiko, she was someone else. The name was familiar, but it wasn't hers. She had no name, she was someone else.

She was no one.

The Uchiha must have seen her defensiveness, for he continued, "Yukiko is your name…"

There was a stab of pain somewhere beyond her physical understanding. The woman shut her eyes and covered her ears, letting go of her katana; not wanting to listen. She turned to her side, not wanting to see the shinobi. Not anymore.

But his voice was as clear as the light surrounding them. She knew _he knew_ that he struck her and to her horror, he continued; instilling the painful stabs at her soul.

"You were once noble and honest, the Hawk of the _fallen_ Pride…"

One by one it continued.

"You hated war just as I did…"

Bit by bit it ruined her.

"You loved every life that exists—no matter how wicked they are…"

Little by little it awakened her.

"You were a sister just as I was a brother—"

"ENOUGH!" she yelled, curling up into a fetal position. All of them were lies, she knew. But the Uchiha's words seemed so true…dreadfully true, "What do you want?" she asked, desperate for him to leave.

She can't move, she felt weak against his statements.

And so the villain, the hero is awakened from her own world of blood and violence. She, who was and has forgotten.

Yukiko Gatsuhashi.

"I want to bring you back Yukiko, as you have done for me."

_There must be something more_

**[.End.]**

**

* * *

  
**

{Awakening}

42

-Coldplay-

_Those who are dead are not dead  
they're just living in my head  
and since I fell for that spell  
I am living there as well_

_Time is so short  
and I'm sure  
there must be something more_


End file.
